


The Last City

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Cannibalism, Knotting, M/M, Main Character Legit Concerned About Being Murdered/Sexually Assaulted, Nightmares, Not The Main Character Mentions of Sexual Assault, Omega Verse, Post-Apocalypse, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-24 05:18:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1592972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will meets the alpha Hannibal after the world ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Storm clouds smear all of the sky that Will can see. Ominously rumbling.

Will knows it's going rain soon and he stops at the side of the eroded street, wiping at his dirt caked beard with one hand out of habit and scanning the area around him, before quickly pulling the sheet of tarpaulin out of his backpack. Zipping the bag shut before slinging it over his shoulder again. 

When it starts to pour his feet still get wet but he keeps dry enough.

It's going to be another long day. Not that every day since the world "ended" hasn't been long, hard, exhausting.

He misses his dogs most. Misses those first months when his pack followed at his heels before time and people slowly picked them off. 

But those days were only a blur now. Will tried not to think on them, though he couldn't escape them in his nightmares.

He sometimes thought that he'd gone to sleep one night in Wolf Trap and never woke up. Kept dreaming, and soon enough he would groggily wake up in a hospital. A doctor would tell him that he had been in a coma for years and years. 

In the beginning he'd kept thinking that.  _I must be dreaming_ he would say, to himself or one of the dogs, for the longest time until it became too painful to lie about the state of the world anymore.

He gave into his reality. A reality much worse than anything that Will had imagined within the minds of serial killers. A reality where people had turned on one another when the food foraged from old supermarkets proved not to be enough to quench their unending hunger.

Will's hands squeeze into the green tarp tucked over his head.

He scratches his cheek against one shoulder, irritating the skin there as the dirt rubbed into him more than anything. He can't do anything about it though.  

Will can barely remember not smelling like the wet earth under his feet these days.

His arms are aching after holding the tarp above his head for hours and his thoughts linger on the single can of pears in his backpack that would have to last him until he found something. He tried not to think about the last time he ran out of food not too long ago. The memory was fresh enough, and Will was hungry enough to not be comforted by the single can of fruit that he still had.

And would it really matter if it did end up being the last thing he ate? Being alone was something that he had chosen for himself in his last life, but he had never really been alone and now that he knew what true isolation was Will couldn't help thinking that death didn't matter as much as it once did. 

If a tree falls with no one there to hear it does it still make a sound? If no one is there to know of his death then would it even matter? He used to think that the tree would still make a sound, but now he isn't sure and all he can feel is acute wariness.  

Even this journey feels fruitless.

He keeps going. Despite himself he keeps going. Will doesn't know whether that is a sign of hope or cowardice. Maybe if he didn't give up he would live long enough for a semblance of civilization to rise from the ashes of the earths apocalypse. If he stopped walking he would die just like so many others. Left where they fell to rot under the stormy sky. He thinks he keeps journeying mostly out of cowardice.

Fear was something that Will had been accustomed to dealing with in his last life. In the wake of the end-of-the-world-as-it-once-was the newfound fears had clung to him like an old suit that was refitted for a new occasion, redesigned.

He had adjusted better than most, though not as well as the bands of men turned cannibalistic. The ones that were able to throw all morals to the wind when it was all that stood in the way of survival.

Will knew starvation well and when he closed his eyes he could empathize at least with what paths their minds took to end up there. He understood even when he would rather not. Just like the good old days when only crime scenes made up the bulk of his nightmares and not just everyday life.

The sun is getting low, the wind picking up speed and rippling against the worn tarpaulin. He doesn't know how far he's walked today when he hears something other than rain that makes him freeze in place.

The memory of being chained in a dark basement flashes through him vividly enough to make him shudder before he shakes off the image, concentrating instead on listening. Even with the noise he could hear what sounded like marching. 

He runs diagonally from them, prey fleeing from predators, towards the field of tall grass. Will crouches there in silence and rubs the mud thickly over his body and clothes methodically. Hiding his scent is the only measure of protection he has as an omega since the production of heat suppressants, along with food and everything in the country, ended. 

He remembers those first days of panic ruefully. How he'd called in sick and scheduled an appointment for the next week with his doctor that never came to pass.

For a long time he'd kept a Ziploc bag of pill bottle suppressants but those days were gone and used.

It's only been maybe a week since his last heat, he doesn't think its possible for his scent to be caught from this distance.

Still, when they pass his heart races. He stays as low to the ground as possible, squinting through the grass. He can't see them.

Will doesn't have to see them to know what they'll look like. A small army dressed in rags, holding pipes loosely in their grips and looking to all with the misfortune to see like they owned the world.

They owned slaves. Meat. Sex. All grouped together and walking along to their deaths. The end of their lives one long streak of bleak misery.

Sitting in the grass Will silently listens. Waiting under the tarp after they've passed for a long time.

When he stands up, knees wet and caked with mud, he's shivering from the cold and it's too dark to continue anymore.

That night he eats the entire can and falls asleep huddled under a tree with a ratty blanket and the tarp pulled around him. Arms wrapped around his pack with only body heat to warm him and the forest of trees by the edge of the woods to keep the trickle of rain away.

He dreams that a swarm of alphas close in around him from all sides. A fire to cook him on burning in the distance.

-

When morning comes Will gathers his things, checks his map, and makes his way back to the road.

Later he finds a gas station and rummages through it without luck. Anything of use has already been taken.

When an old city comes into view he stops to consider the fading billboard that warns off any intruders before a pang of hunger pushes him to go on. Then, as he gets closer he sees something right at the edge of the city that makes his gut squeeze in revulsion at the sight and smell of the display. The hanged man swayed in the tree. Will could only imagine how he got there. The corpses legs had been cut off above the knees, both eyes gorged out. Infected cuts littered the body. This city would be far from safe and Will stood silently, scenting the wind as it dragged the smell of death past his nose.

Then, with a glance at his map, Will kept walking.


	2. Chapter 2

Will wondered if someone was watching him. This place, the street peppered with broken cars with broken windows, made the hairs on his arms and neck stand up. He peered suspiciously at every dark corner, walked close to one side of the street just in case he needed to run down an alley. Let his eyes jot to the windows of the old buildings.

When Will had first left home, with the his dogs and everything he could get into his car that might be useful, he had ignored his nerves overall. He'd been used to his own anxious psychology as an omega, and being an inordinately empathetic one at that. Now, having been saved by his instincts time and time again, he always paid close attention to his senses. If something said run, wait, fight, he did it without question.

There was something off about this place. The faded smell of... actual people permeated the area. Will had learned to stay away from people, alpha, omega, beta. It didn't matter. But he also knew that, occasionally, risks were necessary. And he needed to find food soon, before his energy was really gone and he was well and truly starving to death.  

He doesn't find anything useful as he picks his way across the broken-down city. Anything salvageable has been taken. Will can already feel the hunger beginning to make its way back into his belly and lets his left hand rest on his stomach. Placating what can't be placated.

As he walks the buildings grow taller. When he looks back he doesn't see the end of the city. In every direction he is surrounded. The longer he stays in this place the more anxious he becomes, yet Will is too tired to run.

It is at this moment, as he looks behind him first and then slowly turns his head back, that he stalls. Doesn't even pinpoint what it is that changes, just feels a shiver go down his spine as his nose twitches. Maybe the wind carries a fresher scent, he can't quite make it out. He doesn't consider, just bolts down into the closest alley and in the next moment hears footsteps behind him. More than one pair of them, he notices, but other than that Will doesn't know how many are chasing him. Can only race around the corner and hope that they don't have guns on them like the cannibals.

Other than the heavy sound of their running they don't make a sound. Unlike the roaming cannibals that, when they're on the hunt, will howl and holler all the way. The noise of it staying in his head for days after. These chasers are quiet as mice. It unnerves him and he considers running back, all the way to the hanged man, to the billboard warning others to stay away, but then Will knows that there is nothing for him in the other direction.

He can't back track and walk around the city, would die before he could make it around, would lose valuable time going the long way. Time he does not have, that would only detract from the time it takes to find his next meal, and could only mean a swifter death. Will thinks all of these things nearly subconsciously as he turns to run in the direction he had been walking. If he has to run he'll run in the right direction.

Looking around for a place to hide Will finds nothing but doorways that are all unknown factors and large alleyways that make it more than easy for the chasers to follow him.

No one yells stop or obscenities about what they'll do to Will once they catch him, but he can hear them coming, and he thinks trap.

He turns a corner and smacks bodily into a large Alpha that immediately is grappling for his neck. Will lashes out for its throat and kicks, pulling away.

Then a sharp hit to the back of his head disorients him and he falls. Blacks out.

-

Will dreams that he is brushing his teeth in his old house. The window is dirty, he's been away from home for so long, and he hears barking in the distance. He doesn't think. Just brushes slowly as he takes in his downtrodden person. His eyes are baggy from sleepless nights. His hair is a wild main that curls down slightly past shoulders, and he's much too thin. He hasn't looked into a mirror in months but his gaunt appearance doesn't surprise him.

Will is just happy to be home. He's missed this place, ached for it, and now he is here again.

He brushes his teeth leisurely and when he gets to the back molar he slows to a stop and widens his mouth as a black spider the size of the nail of his pinky finger crawls out of the gap between his teeth. He stops breathing as it leaps out of his mouth to rest on the mirror.

He recognizes the spider. He'd seen it a few days ago when he woke up, crawling across the ground near him. He'd packed his things quickly and checked to make sure nothing got into his food.

Now it had nested in his mouth. Will brushed his teeth more rigorously, disgusted. But the more furiously he brushed the more spiders come, Will squashes a few in his haste and ends up spitting them into the sink, disturbed and gaging. The black getting stuck between his teeth no matter how he scrubs. He can taste them, it reminds surreally that he's hungry. He's caught in the webs they make.

He grabs the shiny white silk and tries to pull the web out. It doesn't stop in his mouth though. It goes back and back, up his throat and they've made a nest in his nose, in his brain. Will would scream. Would scream forever but he knows the cannibals would hear him. They would take him away from wolf trap.

Will coughs and coughs, unable to stop. The spiders have bitten him in agitation. His throat is swelling with pain and he won't be able to breath soon.

The dogs, that had been barking playfully before, are now barking and yipping in fear and pain. The last thing Will sees before he wakes up is the first spider, still resting on the mirror and the fear in his eyes reflected acutely.

-

Will flinches into wakefulness, the smell of alphas heavy in the air.

He immediately realizes that a blindfold obscures his vision, all Will can see is some light that comes in around the edges of it. His sense tell him that he's still outside. Can still feel the light, cold breeze, and the warmth of the sun that only teases him with its heat, not actually warming him. A piece of cloth has been placed is in his mouth and a collar is around his neck. When he shifts he can feel the chain rattle and it's pulled taut at once.

"Easy. Move and we'll tie your hands as well."


	3. Chapter 3

Will's fingers itch to tear the blindfold off his face and count his captors. He hates the feeling of being free enough to move but too petrified by the unknown to do so. He has to stop himself from sucking at the rag in his mouth, bites down on it firmly instead, as he focuses on his unhindered senses. Smell, touch, though if he moves he can't know if he's drawing attention to himself. He feels unnaturally still as he listens to the wheels of, what he thinks at least, is the cart he's been put onto.

A part of Will knows what they are doing. The way he is tied up reminds him of alpha/beta/omega phycology textbooks. Pages that he poured through and for the most part discarded as they tended to generalize too much. Will had always taken a mostly individualistic approach to the mind, though right now he felt like a typical omega. Cautious.

A large part of him doesn't want to move and make the situation worse. Make the alpha that spoke to him earlier carry out his threat and tie his hands, making him completely vulnerable. In his mind he sees a basement though, filled with terrified omega's and beta's all chained to the walls. Huddled together waiting for death to come in the form of the steady thump and creak of footsteps gliding down stairs. The terror of _that_  makes Will move, jolt upright and reach for the blindfold to yank at it fearfully.

It's tied on better than he had expected though which only ratchets up his panic. When a hand takes a hold of his wrist his other hand lashes out, curling into a fist and swinging without hesitating. He manages to hit the others cheek before the smell of the alpha's thicken in the air as they each swoop in and he's grabbed by them and wrestled to the ground.  

He wants to cry out. In the time before this the call was viewed as a mostly obsolete characteristic, only a few omega's ever developed it. Most that did never even realized they had it. Will had known he had it since the day he became an omega. He remembered the near involuntary cry that he'd immediately tried to stifle with a sweaty palm, almost embarrassed and still afraid.

He spits out his gag forcefully and the screeching sound of it leaves him now, and he can feel how the hands on him flinch away. It is, as it has been before, a self-preservation instinct that works well. 

In moments that he otherwise would not have had Will rams his way off of the cart, tripping to the ground a long way in his haste and only by good fortune not twisting his ankles or wrists in the process. The chain of the leash around his neck falls onto his back when he lands and stings.

"Omph."

He is up and running blind in seconds. Hands finally pulling off the blindfold.

He will be surprised later by this turn of events. If he does get away.

_"Stop."_

He hears the order like a whip cracking through the air, and it's clearly an Alpha's order, which Will ignores. He is not new to this game. At this point in his life he has made all the mistakes he can afford to and what he has learned from those will have to do.

He runs on adrenaline. Nothing else as he turns into a department store with a revolving door. Will knows his body, his energy is going to run out soon and he needs to hide. Before he falters and the herd just outruns him.

The problem with running from alpha's, especially in an environment like this, is that their superior tracking abilities make them difficult to shake. They can smell Will in the air and no amount of dirt is going to work well because they've already been around him long enough to lock onto his essence. Will races through the store. Knocking over empty racks to block the path he's making, seeing no point in being subtle with them right behind him. He runs up the flight of stairs in the back.

A part of Will is realizing that he isn't going to lose them. Knows it in his gut, the scales falling from his eyes as the chain thumps against his back with his steps.

Will runs behind a counter and trips over an open box. He gasps and crawls under the counter like an animal hiding in the hollow of a tree.  

This is when his omega instincts do not do him justice. Hiding here obviously isn't going to work, and in fact he's cornered himself as he watches legs come around and stop above him. He stares wide eyed and stops breathing. Thinks, _I'm not here. I'm not here. Don't see me._

Suddenly, a man is crouched down at eye level with him. His bright eyes peering into Will. As soon as Will sees them his eyes lower reflexively. A mouth smiles crookedly at him. Will isn't immediately hit with the usual blast of ill intent. The mans arms rest loosely on his knees with Will's bag in one hand and his eyes holding an interest in them as he huffs quietly, out of breath after the chase. Will is going to shriek if one of those hands reaches for him though. He doesn't trust a friendly face. He hasn't seen many since the end of the world, but he remembers them from before.

How many hapless victims did he see in his line of work, caught like fish at the end of baiting smiles?

"You forgot your backpack." The man says.

_How cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spreads his claws, and welcomes little fishes in with gently, smiling, jaws._

Will shudders and clenches his fists. Two other alpha's stand behind this one though, one of them scowling at him with irritation whilst holding his jaw. What Will really sees is how clean they look. They're shaved, in good health, and washed. To Will they look like they've walked out of a movie compared to everyone else he's seen.

He's observed more people running around naked than he has seen truly healthy people that have clean clothes on over these last years. Of course, Will has always been traveling. When he must he picks his way through cities in the dead of the night. After the first few places he passed through he didn't try to actually find people again. Those experiences had left him scarred and with little faith in humanity. What he knew now was that people were dangerous when they were focused on surviving. 

What he knew was that he was dangerous too. 

He _knew_ this now, in a way he wouldn't have felt without living it. Will had always had a discerning imagination, but there was a theatricality to his insights that kept what he saw at a certain distance, it was why he'd been so suited to finding serial killers. He could empathize with anyone. Could see so much more than most, but the only blood on his hands had been that of the fish he caught and the only pain he'd inflicted was of the emotional variety, more often than not directed at himself.  

Will pushes himself back farther into his dark corner. Carefully planting his feet under him. He's ready to spring but waits patiently. When the moment is right he will know.

The alpha crouched before him takes the time in between to push his bag gently into his arms.

"We won't hurt you. I know, it doesn't seem like we're the good guys this very second, but you're safe with us. I'm Matthew," he said, "and that's Randall and Fred."

"Frederick." The one holding his cheek corrected sharply.

He gave Will a hard, overall ineffective, look of censure.

"We should tie the omega up. I did tell him we would if he pulled something."

"Try it and I'll rip your throat out with my teeth." Will said, a bite to the shape of his words that led credence to the threat.

The man paid him no attention however. On some level Will was surprised. He was so used to the hostility and paranoia in people he came across that this level of inattentiveness, that hearkened back to the days when he had to fight for his career and not his life, was like a flashback. A vivid, unwelcome flashback.

"Omega's need structure, consequences for misbehavior."

Matthew watched him all the while with smiling eyes, the impression that he was enjoying the entire situation made Will want to relax in response. His empathy focusing on things it shouldn't, like the string of tension between Matthew and Fred that pulled taught at the spoken words. 

At least Will could relate to the Matthew's apparent dislike. He'd spent less than a minute with Fred, but he had one suspicion about the alpha that immediately put Will on his guard.

"I bet you were a quack psychiatrist." Will said.

Of course, the man flushed angrily and even bared his teeth at him before he could stop himself.

"I'll have you know before the devastation I was a highly esteemed-"

"Shut up." Randall said.

In an artificially casual move Matthew reached for the leash and Will sprang, shoving his backpack into Matthew harshly to topple him to the floor and bolting out in an instant.

He headed straight at Fred, shoving past him harshly. Crashing the man into the counter.

Will ran for the stairs.

He was tackled to the ground before he could escape far. Will wanted to curse, to scream and thrash, but instead a large hand went down onto his neck and _pressed._ Squeezing. All of Will's muscles at once tensed and then relaxed. He heard a guttural, animalistic growl above him but couldn't move. Couldn't react to it. He felt soft... slumped...

His body was pulled up, weight being supported by a firm body. The hand still holding the pressure point at his neck firmly. It would bruise but he couldn't make the alpha release him. He never should have... turned his back. Too careless. His last... mistake.

In front of him Matthew was binding his wrists together with rope. A new blindfold and gag were secured on him. Will almost welcomed it, his energy drained as his eyes slid over to Fred who was holding his bag away from himself with an expression of disgust, nose wrinkled at its smell, before Will's sight was stolen. He felt overloaded. When was the last time he was around so many people, so many Alpha's?

A sense of foreboding that... couldn't be expressed overcame him.   

-

The lap his head rested against was warm and Will couldn't bring himself to think on it. A hand was combing through his hair. Deceptively soothing. Half of Will relished in the comfort despite himself. The rest of him was fed up and sure that he wasn't thinking clearly.

The grip Randall had on his neck was still firmly in position, though thankfully not bruising anymore. They'd decided he would stay in the cart with Will until they arrived at Margot's.

Will wasn't up to deciphering what that meant. He should have been. Deciphering. Plotting. But the larger part of his mind thought that their was nothing to be done until he was released and wanted to wait patiently until then, and because for some reason that made perfect sense to Will he listened to it and settled down as well as he could when all of his body felt like jelly already.

When the alpha released him he would find the right moment... to run again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omega's are very underestimated here. It's a complex situation with lots of sides to it actually, after the "apocalypse" they were the first to be prayed upon and because of that they are now quite rare. Will's captors are more concerned with the thought of him panicking too much, not with the thought of him actually being capable of escaping them. In their minds, not tying him up will make him a better prisoner to do with... whatever their plans are. Eat him, Will thinks.
> 
> No reason for that commentary I guess I'm just feeling chatty. :)
> 
> Also, everyone probably knows this but I quoted from Alice in Wonderland and Hannibal, the beloved source of my inspiration.


	4. Chapter 4

In Will's dream he is back on his rowboat. Laying down on his back, scrunched on the floor of it, with his legs resting atop the wooden bench. The sky is a creamy blue and to Will it feels incredibly peaceful as the boat sways. He wants to stay in his boat forever. He'd never leave it. Everything about this day is tranquil and Will wants to claw at that feeling and keep it close to him.

The need to hold onto it is what distracts him first, jogging Will enough to make him realize that  _this is a dream_  and remind him that his dreams are never peaceful. He frowns at the sky and wills it to stay the same blue but of course his imagination plays tricks.

His boat starts to rock that little bit more roughly yet Will's body stays loose. Only his lips are moving, sucking, and he looks down at the gag that is in his mouth and his hands that are tied together. Those things don't matter, he can't move. The boat continues to rock back and forth, the water splashing over the edges, and he can't move. He's helpless in this.

There is something about the nature of dreams and the openness of it all, the endless stream of possibilities that has always scared Will.

When the boat tips and he falls into the water it is no surprise. Just a sudden wash of cold shivers as he is submerged. His lips continue to suck at the rag as he sinks deeper down. Comforting in spite of everything. He doesn't choke, the water surrounding him, but the fear of suddenly drowning is present. He becomes the water, his body falling away, and all he can do is suck and suck on the rag filling his mouth. As the blue around him Will fades into inky black.

He is curled up when he slowly rejoins the world. The first sensation he notices being the way his mouth is pulling at the gag sloppily. He hears a calm voice that shakes him from his dreams and his eyelids flutter, everything being dark with only a pinch of light squeezing through the blindfold on him.

A thumb is gently circling the pressure point on his neck. The action sending little jolts down Will's spine. At some point after he fell asleep the grip on his neck had been relaxed some.

"Shh. He's sleeping."

A hand starts to pet its way through his hair. He has no idea who it is. Falls back to asleep as he thinks.

-

When Will truly wakes up he feels groggy, stiff, though well rested.

"An omega?"

"Yeah. Found him heading south."

"Probably trying to find warmer weather, then. It's a good thing you stopped him. If he'd- Will?"

A cool hand touched his forehead. Then the blindfold was being torn off. Bright shining light swooping down to blur his vision.

"You know him?"

Surprise floods his system. He recognizes her. She looks like an angel as she leans over him, the sun haloing her beautiful features. Alana. It's  _Alana._ Alana Bloom. Will chokes on the rag as he drinks in her features, eyes widening, his body leaning up towards her on instinct. He wants to hold her. Speak to her.   

"I used to work with him. God, Will. I can't believe it," Alana is saying, her fingers working to tear the gag out as she stares into his eyes. For once he doesn't mind it. He wants to stare into her soul and learn what has happened to her.

Learn how she survived this long. How she came to be here. What happened to Applesauce? No,  _Abigail._  Does Alana know what happened to her? Has Alana changed, as he has?

Her brown eyes are as kind and heartwarming as he remembers them. He almost chokes again, frantic, breaking eye contact to blink rapidly and look down at her nimbly moving fingers.

He hasn't seen anyone. He went to her home and Jack's to check, but their homes were ransacked and he had to leave.

She used to wear bright dresses, professional suit dresses that looked stunning on her. He remembers Alana as reds and oranges and blues and greens. Every memory Will has of her is rushing back to him. It's almost too much as it all overlays on top of this one. She's wearing a durable brown jacket and blue jeans that are easy to move around in.

"He has the omega call. Be careful ungagging him." Fred says.

She glares at the man briefly.

Will had always hoped, but, to  _see_  her in the flesh. He thinks she's feeling close to the same level of shock and wonder that he is because she's practically radiating with energy when she looks back at him. Rag dropping from her hands to the floor as he sits up.

"I thought you were dead." Will says quietly.

His voice is scratchy and trembling as he moves closer to her. It's awkward, with his hands tied together, to fall onto her. He can't wait for Alana to untie him though, he has to loop his arms over her head and pull her close to him. Head burrowing into her neck with a choked cry.

"Alana." 

Alana is a beta. It's said that biologically omegas feel safest when they're held by an alpha. Biologically, betas just aren't capable of exuding the pheromones that naturally soothe omegas. Will has never felt safer than he does now. When she holds him he feels a comfort like no other and something about that breaks Will's barriers down collectively.

He collapses.

All at once he feels distant from the loneliness and fear that he has lived with for all this time and it is a shock to be without that weight resting on him.

He's talking to her. Words a blur. He can barely understand himself with the tears streaming down his face while he near-hyperventilates through his sentences. He's forgotten about the alphas around them as he speaks.

And- could he even ask?

"Is Abigail?"

Will has to ask. Has to _hope_.

After he does he wishes he hadn't. Alana's smile falters painfully. 

"I'm sorry, Will."

"No. Of course not."

It was a farfetched idea, Will knows. The memory of Abigail has haunted Will over the years, though. He had never been able to find her, hadn't even been able to make it to the hospital in the midst of the chaos until days later, and he'd always wondered how things might have turned out if he had tried to take her in as he had felt compelled to.

He had been told not to by everyone. He was even reassured that it was only his instincts as an omega that urged him; that he should try to ignore them because he had no grounds for custody. But Will had known that Abigail had no one. That had felt like reason enough to at least try. Even if it wouldn't amount to anything. At least she would have known that someone would be looking for her when everything happened. When everyone turned on each other.

He doesn’t know how much of this he mentions to Alana in stilted, whispered half sentences as he tells her about his recent capture. He thinks on some level he realizes that his actions are typical for some omegas, in overwhelming circumstances. He’s confiding in someone he trusts and looking for guidance or reassurance or something to hold onto. It might have been considered unusual that he would choose confide in a beta but Alana handles his fear with the sureness of a professional in her field of work- former work. 

Alana is saying things, which finally penetrate through the haze when she starts to rub her hands gently over his neck and back. Holding onto him tightly.

"I'm here, Will. I'm here. I'm here now. He's fine. Go and start taking everything inside. It's going to be okay, Will." She says, sounding loud compared to his quietly mumbled words, spoken only for her ears.

“We’ll leave him to you.”

Will stops trying to explain everything. Sobs harshly into her neck. There is something obliterating about this. He hasn't cried in years. Hadn't cried when the world ended. When Winston, his last friend, died. Will had only felt a few mourning, quickly silenced tears fall from his eyes when he escaped from that basement. Running fearfully in the woods with a burning throat as he listened to the horrible string of threats screamed into the darkness behind him.

Alana is alive. It feels like she has been reborn. This one thing from his old life, shattered, has come back to him whole again. He can barely handle it as the tears slowly dry up, teetering off into long deep breaths as he rests his forehead on her shoulder.

He still feels off balance, a little groggy, from everything that’s happened. It’s soothing to be held like this.  

After a while Alana guides his head back gently so that she can wipe the tears from his face with her thumbs. Takes the moment to untie his hands and take the collar off.

"Oh, Will. Come inside."

His wet eyes trail past hers to take in the brick wall that sits behind her, surveying it automatically. It’s imposing in its height and architecture, close to impenetrable from without and within...

The sight is almost like a dagger to the chest, or a vacuum sucking all of his emotions down into a silent void in the far corner of his brain - Will thinks about going in and not getting out, and remembers being beaten until he could barely move and dragged into an old country house, down creaking narrow stairs - as he numbly watches one of the alphas that _captured_ him unlock the black, round topped gate door, the other two holding closed boxes in their hands standing beside them.

Will blinks. The salty taste of his tears settling bitterly on the tip of his tongue as he licks his lips, swallowing dryly. 

The urge to trust Alana tugs at him even as he watches their backs. Will won’t lie to himself and think he doesn’t want to. But he’s conflicted. Earlier, he’d been captured by those alphas and without warning. They didn’t try to approach him first. They stalked him and knocked him unconscious. It is likely Will wouldn’t have responded well if they had tried to negotiate with him. Will knows that he’d have never gone with them willingly, for his own safety, which they might have realized. But it doesn’t change the fact that, well intentioned or not, they took him against his will and Will doubts that their intentions were good even with Alana’s presence vouching for them now.  

Will can only think of two reasons for a group of alphas to capture him. He wants to shut down at the thought because the Alana he knows wouldn’t do that… and who is this Alana? Does he want to know?

Will glances discretely behind himself as he rubs the feeling back into his wrists. A wide dirt path trails into the woods. He has no idea where they took him or how to orient himself now that the city isn't in view. 

If he follows the trail it will probably lead him back to the city or a road. Will could find his way, but he would be followed.

"Will?" 

He looks back at Alana.

At Quantico Will had watched her from a distance, because she had carefully cultivated a degree of space between them. He had understood her reasons for doings so and felt moved by the selflessness of her gesture. Whereas others had been unable to help themselves, and at least periodically attempted to analyze the peculiar way that his mind worked, Alana had refused to do that to him. They had only been colleagues but Will had never doubted that she was a good person. After the world ended Will had regretted never befriending her.

It almost seemed strange now, then, to immediately resist the thought of staying here with Alana. Moments ago he had cried on her shoulder. Will looks down at his wrists, notices that he’s rubbing his thumb against a pressure point there and recognizes the strange calm it gives him even though he feels his words catch in his throat. His mouth doesn’t even open to form the question on his mind.

What would have happened to him if she hadn’t recognize him?

Will could only think of two reasons in this cruel world for the men to capture him, neither of which he wants to associate with Alana. Had she cared that the alphas tied someone up? Would she have looked the other way, let them drag him inside the walls like he was a box of supplies they’d found instead of a human being? Would she have helped them?

No. He was jumping to conclusions, wasn’t he? Will wasn’t sure that was strong enough to handle his old life and his new life clashing in this way. 

Will bites at his lower lips. He flinches, completely startled, when the beta touches his shoulder. Worry tinging her voice as she speaks his name. One of the alphas look back at them, was it Matthew? Will sucks in a steadying breath through his teeth. Tense. Looking pointedly away from the alpha, and Alana.

He suddenly wants to run. Will had become good at running. Instead of rising to his feet he feels vaguely disoriented. If he’s honest with himself, Alana’s scent is still what is steadying him. Will doesn’t want to distance himself from it. But so far, not sticking around to ask questions has always been a good strategy in the face of uncertainty.

Will has never associated Alana with danger. If he runs now, maybe it can stay that way. He has a decision to make here. Will can sense it encroaching on him as he tries to regain his focus. All that does is remind him of how hungry he is. His thoughts are spiraling. If Alana is speaking to him he doesn’t know it. He shifts his feet, readying himself. Two hands press against his cheeks and tilt his head so that he faces Alana again. He goes completely still.

Of course, Alana would pick up on the heightened tension that radiates through in his body language. She had been a behavioral psychologist and apparently was much less rusty than he was in regards to social interaction.   

Will didn't know how to explain what he was afraid of. Or if he should.

“Will, tell me what you’re thinking.”

The calm command filters through his dizziness and distress. She sounds almost like an alpha. Will twitches, frozen in a way that he hasn’t been in a long time. Not since things first became bad and he didn’t know how to survive in the world anymore. Didn’t want to accept that he needed to change if he wanted to make it.  

“I can’t stay Alana. They’ll-” He speaks slightly louder now, panicked. Not feeling safe anymore. “They’ll hurt me.”

“No one’s going to hurt you here.”

“They were going to- they caught me.” He whispered furiously.

“Everything alright over there, Alana?”

Will wants to curse as it dawns on him that his hesitation has lost him the few seconds that a surprise escape attempt would have gained him. As the alpha casually steps closer, keys dangling in their hand, Will tries to control his breathing as he looks down and away. Hopes that Alana will call the alpha off but she doesn’t tell them to leave, doesn’t answer them at all. Still looking at Will with an earnestness that he can’t understand. Not under these circumstances.

His hands tremble. _Move_ , he thinks frantically. He’s barely listening as Alana speaks again.

“There’s a pack of raiders staked out at the south edge of the city, Will, do you understand? You were heading straight into their territory,” Alana said with utmost severity. “We’ve been stopping and redirecting anyone that passes though.”  

“Then you aren’t?”

Will could hardly believe it. This was, this was-

Alana shook her head.

“No.”

His eyes sweep across her healthy form. The only other people Will has seen that are this healthy acquired it through repugnant means.

It couldn't be.

He peers at Alana with discrete suspicion. People changed. Will knows better than anyone how people changed.

"And you're... still sustaining yourselves?" He asked slowly.

Alana's expression is knowing when she looks at him. She bows her head for a moment, before looking back up. Shame and determination warring in her eyes. It’s hard to look at them. Will can see that she hadn’t been able to avoid cannibalism in all this time. The body that had been on display, warning people away, had she done that with those she was with?

“We use to be with the raiders living in the city and, yes, we ate people.” She swallowed uncomfortably, looking repulsed and bitter, “We don’t anymore. After the devastation we did it to survive. But while we… hunted we met people that had knowledge in different things like horticulture, or raising livestock. We kept anyone that might give us another way to live. It worked. When we thought it was possible we tried to stop the raids altogether, but some people didn’t want to stop. So we left.”  

Will could hear the disgust that Alana felt, could feel it himself, and couldn’t imagine consciously choosing to commit cannibalism when there was another option available. Could barely consider it even now, after all these years. An overwhelming relief washed over him though. He didn’t think Alana was lying about this.

He glanced at the alpha, the silver keys in their hand. Noticed an ugly aged scar that stretched over their forearm and wondered absently if the group of raiders had done it. How had Alana survived this long? The alpha walked around Will and picked up another box.

 A zing of fear spread through him at the thought of a group of cannibals being so near. He had almost walked into their territory. Will had seen wandering bands of cannibals, raiders, but he hadn’t seen them settled in one place for a long time. City usually weren’t sustainable enough, not for big bands of people. Not when the only food was people.

"Where are we?" He asks.

Alana looks back before glancing at him with a smile.

“Mason Manor.”


End file.
